Flesh and Blood
by Minxy
Summary: Broe in the ISA. Sequel to "Long Shot" and "Endless Circle." Who's the Daddy? It's Attack of the Clones -- Salem Style!
1. Default Chapter

Flesh and Blood 

by 

Minx Trinket 

Disclaimer: Plagiarism? Me? I would never--LOOK OUT! PTERODACTYL! *zoom!* 

Summary: ISA Agents Brady Black and Chloë Lane-Black-Lane meet Little Elvis and stumble onto one of Stefano's most secret, nefarious projects. Call it "Attack of the Clones--Salem Style!" Er...on second thought, don't. 

Rating: PG-13 

MUSIC:   
Let's use Live's "Dam at Otter Creek" for the opening sequence. I've been wanting to use it for a while. (Thought it would be for Spike, but I do what the muse tells me.)   
The song Chloë sings with the choir is "Let the River Run," by Carly Simon. Ever seen Working Girl? That's the one. Translation and arrangement (such as they are) are by yours truly. No, really!   
The closing number is "Easy Terms" from the musical Blood Brothers, and anyone who's seen it knows it is possibly the SADDEST THING EVER. Therefore, I lurve it. The Minxy is Cruel. 

BEGIN MOS 

Music over: a threatening guitar riff. 

FADE IN: 

EXT. A LATE-MEDIEVAL CASTLE - SOMEWHERE IN ALBANIA - NIGHT 

The stone behemoth is perched on a craggy hill above a large, still lake. As the camera PANS AROUND the building, we can see both its extent and disrepair. It looks abandoned, but as we circle closer, we notice DIM ORANGE LIGHTS in the windows here and there. We circle and circle, faster and faster, until 

A BLACK HELICOPTER 

whisper silent, sweeps ahead of us and comes to hover above the lake, so high the spinning blades don't even ripple the surface. A ROPE is dropped from the chopper down almost to the water. 

A FIGURE IN BLACK emerges from the chopper and begins to slide down the rope, quickly followed by ANOTHER FIGURE in black. One after the other, they slip into the water like seals, barely making a splash. 

The helicopter pulls up its line, banks, and flies away. 

BENEATH THE WATER 

The two people, in light scuba gear and drysuits, streak off toward the castle. 

INT. CASTLE CATACOMBS - CONTINUOUS 

Here, a bit of the lake laps into this dank, low-ceilinged dungeon. 

The first swimmer surfaces and hauls himself to the shore. He turns as the second swimmer emerges, extends a hand, and helps his partner out of the water. 

The second swimmer pulls off her mask and hood. It's CHLOË. 

The first swimmer removes his. BRADY, of course. 

They busy themselves stashing gear and checking arcane equipment, neither saying a word. Chloë pulls out a LAMINATED BLUEPRINT of what can only be the castle. She points: me, this way, you, that way. Brady nods and takes the map. 

They share a hard, quick kiss before starting off in opposite directions. 

INT. TOWER STAIRCASE - CONTINUOUS 

Chloë creeps quietly up the stairs, gun drawn, all vigilance. 

INT. CATACOMBS - CONTINUOUS 

Brady too is sneaking through the castle. Periodically, he consults the map, glances at the wall for confirmation, and turns a corner. 

INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS 

Chloë peeps around a corner and then darts back into the shadows as a pair of GUARDS carrying UZIS come down the hall. After they pass, Chloë slips into the hallway and heads in the opposite direction. 

INT. DR. HALFREK'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS 

A thin, ageing man with thick glasses and the general dustiness of a theoretical physicist shambles slowly around the sparsely furnished room, holding a stack of books. He starts as 

THE DOORKNOB 

rattles urgently. 

He backs away from the door, the books sliding unnoticed from his hands, as 

OUTSIDE 

Chloë is trying to pick the lock. Finally, she gives up, stands, and KICKS the door open 

MATCH CUT TO: 

BRADY KICKS 

a door open in the catacombs. He steps through the threshold and stops, eyes widening. 

MATCH CUT TO: 

DR. HALFREK'S FACE 

as he stares in shock at Chloë, who enters the room briskly. She begins gathering papers and barking orders at him. He hurries to comply. 

INT. THE CATACOMBS - CONTINUOUS 

Off Brady, pull back in wide angle to reveal 

INT. THE GENERATOR ROOM - CONTINUOUS 

An enormous warehouse of indescribable technology. It's clearly what Brady was looking for but clearly much larger than expected. He dashes into the room and starts planting CHARGES along the buttresses of the walls. He dashes past the camera, which tracks him from behind. 

MATCH CUT TO: 

CHLOË'S BACK 

as she runs down the 

INT. UPSTAIRS HALL - CONTINUOUS 

with Dr. Halfrek in tow. As they reach the top of the stairs, FIVE GUARDS come surging up them and dive at Chloë. 

Chloë shoves Halfrek back and launches into Michelle Yeoh mode, kicking and punching and taking guards out right and left. 

INT. GENERATOR ROOM - CONTINUOUS 

Brady sets the last charge and takes the DETONATOR out of his pocket. He pushes a few buttons. The readout displays a big, red, digital 2:00...1:59...1:58.... 

He takes off. 

INT. CATACOMBS - CONTINUOUS 

Brady is running for their point of entry. Chloë and Halfrek emerge from another corridor to meet him, and they all keep running toward the edge of the lake until 

A PORTCULLIS 

slams into the floor, cutting them off from their escape. 

Brady points and runs to the left, and they follow him 

UP A STAIRCASE 

and 

OUTSIDE 

onto 

EXT. PARAPETS - CONTINUOUS 

They run along the top of the wall. Brady and Chloë each take one of Halfrek's hands, and they lead the terrified scientist in a mad run toward the ledge and they 

LEAP 

off the wall into the lake as 

THE CASTLE EXPLODES 

behind them, silhouetting them in a bright, orange fireball as they sail through the air and -- 

SMASH TO: 

INT. AIRPLANE BATHROOM - DAY 

as Brady SLAMS Chloë against the wall. 

END MOS 

Both are sweaty, rumpled, and breathing hard. Clearly postcoital. Brady rests his head on Chloë's shoulder, gasping for breath. 

CHLOË   
Ohmigod. 

BRADY   
Oh, yeah. 

CHLOË   
Brady, have you noticed that we   
have the most amazing sex right   
after one or both of us has nearly died? 

BRADY   
Possibly. 

CHLOË   
D'you think that's' some kind   
of conditioned response to our   
bizarre and traumatic adolescence? 

BRADY   
Probably. 

CHLOË   
There's something really wrong   
with us. 

BRADY   
Definitely. 

He smiles cheerfully and kisses her. As things get hot and it looks like they're going to start all over again, a CELL PHONE RINGS. Chloë breaks the kiss. 

CHLOË   
(bimbo voice)   
Goodness, James! What is that noise? 

BRADY   
(Connery imitation)   
Pardon me a moment, Dr. Juicybottom. 

Chloë giggles and continues to nibble on Brady as he grabs a cell phone from somewhere O.S. and answers it. 

BRADY   
Yallo? 

SHANE (O.S.)   
(on phone)   
Agent Black. I understand the   
usual congratulations are in order. 

BRADY   
(to phone)   
Hi, Shane.   
(to Chloë)   
It's Shane. 

CHLOË   
(still nibbling)   
Hi, Shane! 

SHANE (O.S.)   
(on phone)   
Am I interrupting something? 

BRADY   
What could you be interrupting? 

SHANE (O.S.)   
(on phone)   
With you two, I shudder to think.   
I trust everything went smoothly? 

BRADY   
Well, to tell you the truth, these   
airplane bathrooms are little tough   
on the elbows, but we managed. 

INT. SHANE'S NY OFFICE - CONTINUOUS 

Shane looks with disgust at the receiver of the phone. We can hear Chloë's laughter at the other end. 

SHANE   
Agent Black? Once again, too   
much information. 

BRADY (O.S.)   
(on phone)   
Sorry, man. 

SHANE   
Regarding the case? 

INT. AIRPLANE BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS 

Chloë is now trying to straighten their clothing. She's straining hard to keep her serious face on. 

BRADY   
The package is safe and sound   
with our friends in Prague. And the   
little problem it caused is now buried   
under several hundred thousand tons   
of granite. I would say we are A-OK. 

SHANE (O.S.)   
(on phone)   
Glad to hear it. Now, in return, I   
have some information for you. 

BRADY   
Oh yeah? Lemmie guess. You're   
sending us to China. 

Chloë rolls her eyes. 

SHANE (O.S.)   
(on phone)   
No. I'm sending you to Salem. 

BRADY   
What? 

SHANE (O.S.)   
(on phone)   
There are three airplane tickets   
waiting at LaGuardia for you, Chloë,   
and Belle. You're booked on the 3 PM   
flight into Salem tomorrow. 

BRADY   
What for? 

SHANE (O.S.)   
(on phone)   
For the holidays, Brady. With your   
family. Just my way of saying thanks,   
and Happy Christmas to all three of you. 

BRADY   
Shane, man, you rule!   
(to Chloë)   
Shane's giving us leave for Christmas   
and sending us home. 

CHLOË   
(shouts to phone)   
You rule, Shane! 

SHANE (O.S.)   
(on phone)   
Mutual, I'm sure. Take care. 

BRADY   
You too. Merry Christmas. 

He hangs up. Chloë gives her makeup one last check in the mirror and reaches for the door handle. 

Brady grabs her wrist. 

BRADY (CONT'D)   
And where do you think you're going?   
I'm not done with you yet. 

He grabs her and starts kissing her neck. 

CHLOË   
(bimbo voice, sighing)   
Oh, James! 

They both laugh. 

INT. THE BLACK PENTHOUSE - SALEM - CHRISTMAS EVE - DAY 

Two laughing become ten laughing as we join the family celebrating the holidays. The apartment is decked out with tree and presents and sparkly things. 

CRAIG, SAMI, and BELLE are sitting around a table, chatting. Brady, JOHN, and WILL (now 16 -- no SORAS here, please!) are around the TV, playing with a PLAYSTATION 3 (picture it, folks), making those competitive man noises. MARLENA and NANCY enter from the kitchen, bringing DISHES to the table. Chloë follows them, a WINE BOTTLE in each fist. 

The mothers put their things on the table and go back to the kitchen. Chloë does not follow them. She hands the wine to Sami and looks over at the men on the couch. 

John and Will are playing the game, and Brady is coaching Will on. John tries to play with one hand and cover Brady's mouth with the other. Chloë's smile as she watches them fades from delighted to melancholy. 

Nancy comes up behind her. 

NANCY   
You okay, honey? 

Chloë tears her eyes from the boys and glares at her mother. Nancy does a surprised take. It's been a long time since she's seen that look in Chloë's eyes. 

CHLOË   
(coldly)   
I'm fine. 

She walks away. Nancy looks from her to the boys, wheels turning in her head. 

Chloë sits at the table next to Craig and puts her head on his shoulder. He ruffles her hair, and she sits up again. 

Sami is still struggling with a wine bottle. Belle is trying to help, but isn't being particularly useful. 

BELLE   
All right, Chloë, so we're all dying   
to know. How did you do it? 

CHLOË   
Do what? 

BELLE   
How'd you get Brady to agree to   
sing on your next album? 

BRADY   
(from couch)   
She tricked me! 

CHLOË   
Did not! 

BRADY   
Did too! 

CHLOË   
(to table)   
Seven card stud. He thought I was   
bluffing.   
(louder, to include Brady)   
I never bluff. 

BRADY   
You bluff all the time! 

CHLOË   
Not at poker. 

BELLE   
Brady, you didn't! 

CHLOË   
He did. 

Brady joins them at the table, mock-glowering at Chloë. 

BRADY   
She had nothing showing. Nothing. 

CHLOË   
Straight to the ace in the hole.   
I think he's learned his lesson,   
haven't you sweetie? 

BRADY   
(grumbles)   
Cheater. 

BELLE   
So what are you gonna make him   
sing? 

CHLOË   
Oh, the mind reels. I still have a   
few weeks to decide. 

SAMI   
So, wait, this is why you're going   
to London? To record an album? 

CHLOË   
That's part of it, yeah. There's this   
gothic church that's been turned   
into a studio. I've been in it. It's   
got the most amazing acoustics.   
I'm so psyched to get in there. And   
with the concert, it was perfect timing. 

SAMI   
Wait. Concert? 

BELLE   
Sami, where've you been, girl? 

The rest of the crew joins them at the table as Nancy brings out a roast and Marlena appears with potatoes. 

SAMI   
Out of the loop, obviously. Chloë,   
I'm sorry. I'm a terrible sister. In-law.   
Step. I think. Are we actually related? 

CHLOË   
(joking)   
I'm not sure. What's your name again? 

BRADY   
She's doing a benefit concert New   
Year's Eve, for the Royal Pediatric   
AIDS Foundation. 

BELLE   
She's singing with the Westminster   
Abbey Boy's Choir. 

SAMI   
Wow!   
(sotto voce; to Chloë)   
That's wow, right? 

CHLOË   
Totally. These boys are incredible.   
And I get to be a part of a 900-year-old   
tradition. Not to mention, their soloist --   
(to Brady)   
have I played you the tape they sent me? 

BRADY   
Nuh-uh. 

Wine is poured. Dishes are passed. 

CHLOË   
This kid. Unbelievable. I can't even   
describe. Mark my words, he's   
gonna be the next Charlotte   
Church. 

BRADY   
I thought youwere the next   
Charlotte Church. 

JOHN   
Has this wunderkind got a name   
we should be looking out for? 

CHLOË   
Yes, the poor thing. Get this. His   
parents named him "Elvis Crumb." 

John sputters into his wine, and the rest of the Black/Brady clan drops jaws and forks. They shoot each other looks of astonishment. 

CHLOË (CONT'D)   
(off their looks)   
What? 

INT. BRADY'S OLD BEDROOM - NIGHT 

Brady and Chloë are snuggled up in his little twin bed, subtly jockeying for space and covers. 

CHLOË   
So, is there in fact any woman   
in Salem who hasn't been   
in love with your father? 

BRADY   
Not that I'm aware of. 

CHLOË   
Words fail. 

BRADY   
That ol' Black magic again. We're   
irresistible. 

CHLOË   
I seem to recall resisting you for   
quite a long time. Years, in fact. 

BRADY   
But you came around in the end,   
didn't you? 

CHLOË   
Point. Ow! Elbow. 

BRADY   
Huh? 

CHLOË   
Your elbow. My ribs. I need   
those. 

BRADY   
Not all of them.   
(more wrestling)   
Ow! This is getting very, very   
dangerous. Okay, there's only   
one solution. 

He drags Chloë on top of them. They settle, face to face. 

BRADY (CONT'D)   
There. Much better. 

CHLOË   
If I recall, the last time we tried to   
sleep like this, both your legs fell   
asleep and you limped for two days. 

BRADY   
Who said anything about   
sleeping? 

He kisses her, but she returns it with less than her usual enthusiasm. 

BRADY (CONT'D)   
Chlo'? What is it? 

CHLOË   
Nothing.   
(off his look)   
It's just...y'know. Family. Draining. 

BRADY   
Family. You mean Nancy.   
(off her look)   
If it makes you feel any better, she   
read me the riot act too. 

CHLOË   
When? And for what? 

BRADY   
When I was washing dishes. She   
wanted to know when I was going   
to make an honest woman out of   
you. Again. 

He holds up his left hand. He's wearing his old wedding band. 

BRADY (CONT'D)   
I told her I was just waiting for you   
to say yes. 

Chloë scowls and sits up on the edge of the bed, her back to Brady. 

BRADY (CONT'D)   
But she seemed to think that you were   
upset about something. Which, clearly,   
you are.   
(beat)   
Did I -- 

CHLOË   
Of course not. 

BRADY   
Okay. Well. I know better than to ask   
if you wanna talk, 'cause if you did,   
you'd be talking already. But, for the   
record, I wanna listen. 

Chloë smiles. She looks at him. 

CHLOË   
Where the heck did you come from?   
Are you some sort of genetically   
engineered superguy who's been   
psychologically programmed to always   
say the right thing? 

BRADY   
I told you. Black magic. 

Chloë laughs. 

BRADY (CONT'D)   
Listen. You just give Nancy a good   
hard ignoring. You know she means   
well. She's probably just bucking   
for grandchildren. 

CHLOË   
Yeah, well, tell her not to hold her   
breath. Wait. On second thought,   
tell her to hold her breath. 

BRADY   
Not for too long, though. Right? 

Chloë looks away. 

BRADY (CONT'D)   
Chloë? 

She stands and walks over to the window. 

BRADY (CONT'D)   
You do want to have kids, right? I   
mean, not now, but eventually? 

CHLOË   
I don't know. 

Brady sits up, startled. 

BRADY   
Wait a minute. We talked about this   
a long time ago. You said three. I said   
two. You said we keep going till there's   
one of each and I agreed, remember? 

CHLOË   
I remember. It's just, lately, I've been   
thinking...not. 

BRADY   
When did you change your mind? 

CHLOË   
(quietly)   
About when I started carrying a gun.   
(beat)   
This life we're living....   
(beat)   
Brady, what would happen to them if   
we died? If you died? I don't want   
my children to grow up like I did.   
No one should have to grow up like   
me, like us. Without a mother, or...   
(choking up)   
...a father.... 

Brady comes up behind her. He touches her shoulder tentatively, just letting her know he's there. She takes his arm and wraps it around herself. He takes the cue and pulls her comfortingly close. 

CHLOË   
Why won't she just tell me? 


	2. 2

EXT. LONDON, ENGLAND - DAY 

Establishing shots of the grand old city in all its gray stone glory. The wet chill of winter is evident in the cold light and bare trees. 

INT. HOTEL SUITE - BEDROOM - DAY 

Brady steps out of the bathroom of the luxurious suite, fresh from the shower, toweling his hair. In the next room, he can hear Chloë running scales. He listens for a minute, smiling, then heads to the mirror. 

He picks up his HAIRBRUSH, then stops, looking at CHLOË'S BRUSH. He puts his down and picks hers up. He pulls one long hair from the bristles, squinting at it. 

There's a little white bump on the end: follicle. 

He puts the brush down and picks up his CELL PHONE, dials. 

BRADY   
(to phone)   
Hey, Watson! Brady Black....I'm good.   
I'm in town....Oh, you did, huh?...Well,   
I was wondering if you've got time to do   
a little something for me.... 

INT. SUITE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 

Chloë's still warming up. There's a knock at the door. Chloë stops singing and answers it. It's a bellboy. 

BELLBOY   
'Morning, madam. You have a package   
for me? 

CHLOË   
Package? 

BRADY (O.S.)   
I have it! 

He comes jogging out of the bedroom, more-or-less dressed, with an envelope in his hand. He hands it to the bellboy. 

BRADY (CONT'D)   
That needs to go by courier today   
to the address on the front. 

BELLBOY   
Of course, sir. 

BRADY   
Thanks. 

Brady tips him and he leaves. Chloë closes the door and rounds on Brady suspiciously. 

CHLOË   
What was that all about? 

BRADY   
Wouldn't you like to know? 

CHLOË   
I would, in fact. 

He puts his arms around her. She pouts. 

BRADY   
It's a surprise. 

CHLOË   
What kind of surprise? 

BRADY   
Not sure yet. Either the good kind   
or the kind when you open the fridge   
and there's nothing you wanna eat   
so you order Chinese. 

Chloë laughs and shakes her head. 

CHLOË   
You almost ready? 

BRADY   
Yes. Need shoes though. 

He goes back into the bedroom. Chloë roots through her purse as she talks to him, raising her voice. 

CHLOË   
So are you excited to see them? 

BRADY   
(from bedroom)   
More like completely weirded out. We   
haven't even heard from Susan and   
Elvis in, like, a decade. 

He emerges, shoes in hand. He sits and begins putting them on. 

CHLOË   
You like them, though? 

BRADY   
Sure. I mean, I never met Edward.   
But Susan's a trip. 

CHLOË   
How so? 

BRADY   
The woman named her son "Elvis."   
What does that say to you? 

CHLOË   
I see your point. But what about   
the little King? What's he like? 

For a split second Brady sees a FLASH OF STEFANO'S GRINNING FACE. 

BRADY   
He, uh...he was just a baby last   
time I saw him. Wasn't even talking   
yet, much less walking around   
and singing. 

Chloë looks at him with suspicion again. 

CHLOË   
How long is it going to take before   
you tell me what's going on? 

BRADY   
Nothing's going --   
(off her look)   
There's an old case. Some stuff's   
come up. It's probably nothing. 

CHLOË   
Can you tell me? 

He hesitates, then slowly shakes his head. 

CHLOË (CONT'D)   
I really hate this part of the job.   
(beat)   
Anything I can do to help? 

He beckons her over. She obliges and drapes herself across his lap. He kisses her. 

EXT. WHITEHALL - DAY 

Brady and Chloë, dressed for the cold, are headed south along the wide boulevard lined with Inigo Jones buildings. Brady has his hands stuffed in his pockets and his collar turned up against the damp. Chloë, on the other hand, is practically Mary-Tyler-Mooring it down the street. He watches her with amused disbelief. 

CHLOË   
(inhales deeply)   
Mmm...I love this city. Have   
I mentioned that? Have I mentioned   
how much I love this city? 

BRADY   
Once or twice. 

CHLOË   
Well, I do. I really really do. Don't   
get me wrong. New York is New York,   
and it will always be the greatest   
city on earth and it will always be   
"home," but London, ah, London....   
it's magic.   
(inhales again)   
Smell that? 

BRADY   
(sniffs)   
Bus fumes, frying fish, and rain. 

CHLOË   
London! 

BRADY   
Lunatic. 

CHLOË   
Go ahead. Scoff. But after the show's   
done and we've got some free time,   
I'm going to show you the town. 

BRADY   
I've seen London before. 

CHLOË   
From the back of a surveillance   
van no doubt. 

BRADY   
Disused Underground tunnels,   
actually. 

CHLOË   
Then you definitely haven't seen   
my London. 

She takes his hand and leads him down the street to 

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - DAY 

Establishing shot of the ghostly white, gothic cathedral. Chloë drags Brady through the scattered tourists and into the building. 

INT. NAVE - WESTMINSTER ABBEY - DAY 

They enter. The true size and age of the ancient Cathedral hits Brady, and he looks around in wonder while pulling off his gloves. 

BRADY   
Holy moly. 

CHLOË   
Holy everything, actually. Don't   
step on the poppies. 

They skirt the Grave of the Unknown Warrior embedded in the floor. Brady gapes like a true tourist, while Chloë seems to be searching for someone. 

BRADY   
(looking at floor)   
Whoa. I see dead people. 

CHLOË   
Yup. Buried in the floor, the walls.   
Henry the Fifth's Queen Kate is in   
a ceiling. More famous corpses in here   
than you can shake a stick at....Hm.   
The choir director said he'd meet   
us out here. I wonder -- 

FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)   
(squealing)   
Oh, my lord in heaven! Brady Black! 

Brady looks up and is immediately tackled by SUSAN BANKS-CRUMB. The tall, thin, homely and homespun woman throws her arms around him an bounces up and down like a child. Brady, laughing, hugs her back. 

SUSAN (CONT'D)   
Goodness! The last time I saw you   
you was belly high to a bullfrog!   
Now look at you! So tall and handsome!   
Just like your daddy! 

CHLOË   
(to Brady; amused)   
I take it this is Susan? 

BRADY   
Uh, yeah. 

BOY'S VOICE   
Gosh. It's really you, innit? 

All three turn toward the sound of this new voice and see a 13-YEAR-OLD BOY. He is tall for his age, strongly built, with golden skin, dark hair, and dark eyes -- a different color but the same doe-like shape as Chloë's. He is staring at Chloë, mouth open a little in wonder. 

He and Chloë lock eyes, and her expression softens as something passes between them: a feeling, an understanding. 

CHLOË   
(softly)   
So you must be Elvis. 

LATER 

Susan and Brady sit in the pews and look up toward the QUIRE, where Chloë watches Elvis and THE REST OF THE CHOIR practicing (perhaps a bit of Handel's Messiah?). Susan looks ready to burst with pride. 

SUSAN   
Would you look at that! That's my   
little boy up there, and he's gonna   
be singing with Miss Chloë Lane!   
He's so growed up! And you! Look   
at you all growed up and married   
to Miss Chloë Lane! 'Cept you're   
not married to Miss Chloë Lane   
anymore, are you? 

BRADY   
Technically, no, but -- 

SUSAN   
Then what exactly are your   
intentions toward Miss Chloë   
Lane, Mr. Brady Black? 

BRADY   
(to himself)   
Geez. It's Groundhog Day.   
(to Susan)   
Look, Susan, my intentions are   
totally honorable -- 

SUSAN   
Uh-huh? Then why ain't you and   
Miss Chloë Lane married yet? 

BRADY   
We've just...it's...it hasn't been   
the right time. 

SUSAN   
Mr. Brady Black, your daddy   
married me while I was in the   
middle of giving birth to my   
precious Elvis, so don't you give   
me no hooey about the right time.   
You love somebody, it's always   
the right time. 

Meanwhile, in the quire, Chloë has joined in with the boys. Her voice rings beautifully through the cathedral. 

SUSAN (CONT'D)   
Now, would you listen to that! She   
sounds just like an angel, doesn't she? 

BRADY   
She is an angel.   
(beat)   
From what I've heard of Elvis, he's   
got a lot of talent himself. 

SUSAN   
My Elvis is a very special young   
man, don't you doubt it. 

BRADY   
He's a good kid, huh? 

Susan turns on him, her normally sweet face angry and defensive. 

SUSAN   
(harsh whisper)   
I know what you're askin'. He's   
a good boy, my Elvis. He ain't   
nothin' like his daddy. An' he   
ain't gonna be like him. 

Brady looks away, uncomfortable. The singers can be heard LAUGHING. 

INT. GO SUSHI - AFTERNOON 

This sterile/industrial white-and-chrome restaurant contains a sprinkling of young, happy hipsters and A CONVEYOR BELT that brings PLATES of freshly prepared SUSHI from the chefs at the back of the room through the dining room, past each table. Customers pluck the plates off the belt as they pass. 

Chloë, Brady, Susan, and Elvis are in a booth. Everyone but Susan has a STACK OF EMPTY PLATES piled high in front of them. Susan sits with a BOWL OF MISO SOUP in front of her, looking with horror at the others' selections. 

Brady plucks a plate of bright red, raw yellowfin tuna off the belt and shows it to Susan, who cringes away. 

BRADY   
Sure you don't want any? 

CHLOË   
Brady! Very mean! 

ELVIS   
C'mon, Mum! Try it! It's brilliant,   
really! 

SUSAN   
If the Good Lord had intended us   
to eat raw fish, he wouldn't've   
given us the Fry Daddy. I will   
just eat my soup, thank you very   
much. 

BRADY   
You know that soup's got tofu   
in it, right? 

ELVIS   
Tofu? Really? Oh, no, Mum!   
You're eating tofu?! 

SUSAN   
(beat)   
Did they cook it? 

CHLOË   
Honestly! You guys! Susan, tofu   
is just made of beans, and yes,   
they cooked it. Brady, do not   
turn to the Dark Side, and you, Mr.   
Crumb, don't get any bright ideas   
from this guy. He's a very, very bad man. 

She says this with a smile toward Brady, but his smile in reply is less than convincing. Susan looks downright distraught. Before Chloë can question, Brady's CELL PHONE RINGS. He answers. 

BRADY   
(to phone)   
Black....Hey, man....Wow, that was   
fast....You're kidding! Excellent!...   
Yeah, okay. See you in a few.   
(hangs up; to Chloë)   
That was...er, you know that work   
thing from this morning? 

CHLOË   
Good news? 

BRADY   
Looks like it. I gotta get down   
there. 

CHLOË   
Go. I'll see you tonight. 

He kisses her goodbye, gives Susan a hug and Elvis a handshake, and walks out. 

Awkward now, strangers without Brady, the three smile a little uncomfortably and shift in their seats. 

SUSAN   
(to Elvis)   
Well, now, I guess it's just you   
and me and Miss Chloë Lane, huh,   
Skeeter? 

ELVIS   
Yeah, I guess. 

SUSAN   
Maybe we should think about making   
Miss Chloë Lane feel at home.   
What'd'ya think about that? 

ELVIS   
I think that's a very good idea, Mum.   
(to Chloë)   
I could -- I mean, if you like, I   
could show you around London. 

CHLOË   
(softening)   
I would like that very much. 

EXT. NEW SCOTLAND YARD - DAY 

Establishing shot. 

INT. IAN WATSON'S OFFICE - FORENSICS - NEW SCOTLAND YARD - DAY 

Just another office. Maybe a little more high-tech, maybe a little more cluttered with files, but nothing out of the ordinary. IAN WATSON (mid-twenties, small and wiry, glasses) sits at one of several COMPUTERS, typing, absorbed in the screen. 

There is a KNOCK at the door, and Brady enters without waiting for an answer. Watson looks up as he enters. 

WATSON   
Brady Black, you daft Yank   
bastard! 

BRADY   
Ian Watson, you manky Scottish git!   
Whatcha got for me? 

Hand shaking and man-hugs. Watson waves Brady into a seat. 

WATSON   
Have I mentioned that you are the   
luckiest wanker in the bloody   
Western hemisphere? 

BRADY   
How's that? 

WATSON   
Well, in addition to the fact that,   
not once but twice, mind you, have   
managed to secure the affections   
of one of the most gorgeous   
women on the planet, a woman with the   
most magnificent pair of -- 

BRADY   
(mock angry)   
Okay! Moving it along! 

WATSON   
--eyes I have ever seen, but   
then, you somehow blunder,   
Inspector Clouseau-like, onto a   
piece of evidence like this. 

Watson holds up a little PLASTIC BAGGIE containing Chloë's hair. He grins deviously at Brady, who has stopped smiling. 

WATSON (CONT'D)   
Going to tell me where it's from?   
(off his look; sighing)   
All right. Need-to-know and all that.   
Fine. But remember to send profuse   
thanks, preferably in the form of cash   
and/or loose women, when you find   
this bird. 

Watson turns back to his computer and begins typing. Brady rolls his chair up for a better view. Watson points to the SCREEN, which displays row after row of letters: ATCCGTGTATCGATTCGCA.... 

WATSON (CONT'D)   
This here is your girl's full genotype.   
I type her and run her through the   
system, nothing unusual. Female,   
blood type A negative, blue eyes,   
probably tall, etcetera. Now, you said   
just to run her against the civilian   
databases. I did. No match, and no   
likely parent matches either. 

BRADY   
(grumbles)   
Too much to hope for, I guess. 

WATSON   
(cutting him off)   
So then, just for giggles, I   
run a check for unusual genes and   
mutations, and voila. 

Watson points toward the bottom of the screen, where a string of SEVEN T's is highlighted in YELLOW. 

WATSON (CONT'D)   
The "EDM7 gene," which, cleverly   
enough, generates the EDM7 blood   
plasma protein. 

BRADY   
Well, what is it? What's this protein?   
what does it do? 

WATSON   
Nothing, as near as anyone can   
figure. What's interesting about it   
isn't what it does, it's where it comes   
from. 

BRADY   
Where -- 

WATSON   
I'll tell you if you stop interrupting.   
The EDM7 gene is a very rare   
mutation only found in one, small   
extended family of Italian descent.   
It was discovered in 1968 and named for   
the subject in whom it was identified:   
one Ernesto DiMera. Uncle of the   
infamous Stefano. 

PUSH IN on Brady's horrified face. 

WATSON (CONT'D)   
No doubt about it. Your girl is definitely   
a DiMera. 


	3. 3

INT. QUIRE - WESTMINSTER ABBEY - EVENING 

The BOYS are singing again. Chloë and the DIRECTOR are huddled over a piece of sheet music, discussing it. 

Chloë looks up and sees Brady coming up the stairs into the quire. She smiles a huge smile and goes to him. 

Brady does not smile. He looks like he's just been hit with a brick. He can barely look at her. Chloë notices this as she gets closer, and she slows down, frowning. They speak in hushed tones. 

CHLOË   
Brady, what is it? 

BRADY   
I, uh...I have to go back to the states   
for a few days. 

CHLOË   
Why? What's happened? 

BRADY   
I can't...I can't tell you. 

CHLOË   
Are you all right? 

She reaches out and takes his hand. He almost twitches it away, then holds it tightly instead. 

CHLOË (CONT'D)   
Brady.... 

BRADY   
I gotta go. I'll be back as soon as   
I can. 

He starts to walk away. She doesn't release his hand, and it yanks him back. 

CHLOË   
Hey. I love you. 

And, although it nearly kills him to say it, the truth is -- 

BRADY   
I love you too. 

He hurries away. Chloë stands alone and watches him go, fear growing in her eyes. 

INT. AIRPLANE - NIGHT 

All of the passengers in the first-class cabin are asleep, except Brady, who gnaws on his thumbnail, staring into space. His expression slides slowly into anger. 

EXT. THE WESLEYS' HOUSE - MORNING 

Brady, in the same clothes, rumpled and panting, runs up to the front steps and pounds on the door. He pokes the doorbell a few times for good measure. He shifts his weight impatiently. 

The door opens, and a confused Nancy, wearing a bathrobe, blinks at him. 

NANCY   
Brady? What on earth? I thought   
you were in London. Is Chloë -- 

BRADY   
(growls)   
Why didn't you tell her? 

NANCY   
Wh -- 

BRADY   
Why didn't you tell me? She   
deserved to know. We both did! 

NANCY   
Brady, What on earth are you -- 

BRADY   
Dammit, Nancy! I know who her   
father is! 

Nancy's jaw clenches. Her lip quivers. We're not sure if she's going to hit him or cry. 

NANCY   
Well, then. You know a lot more   
about it than I do. 

INT. - WESLEYS' KITCHEN - MORNING 

A sullen Brady and a sleepy, confused Craig are sitting at the table. Nancy is going through the motions of making coffee, but it's clearly just something to do with her hands. 

BRADY   
Why -- 

NANCY   
Because it's not the sort of thing you   
tell people. It's not what you tell your   
little girl about how she was conceived.   
She wants a story with hearts and flowers   
and love. At the very least, she'd want   
a name, and I couldn't give her one.   
I didn't know it. 

BRADY   
How is that possible? 

NANCY   
Don't you go playing naïve with me,   
Brady Black. You're no angel. 

CRAIG   
Nance, he didn't mean -- 

NANCY   
Oh yes he did! Look at him! Look   
at his face! Look at him judging me! 

BRADY   
(angry)   
I'm not -- 

But he has to stop and look away, because he is. He's almost shaking with fury. 

BRADY (CONT'D)   
I just wanna know how it happened. 

NANCY   
I was raped, all right?! Is that   
what you need to hear?! I was raped,   
and I don't even remember it! 

She throws a COFFEE CUP across the room and it SHATTERS against the refrigerator. Craig leaps up and grabs her, holding her close. She begins to sob. 

Brady stares at them, mouth open. That was not what he expected to hear. 

CRAIG   
(to Nancy; whispering)   
It's okay, honey. It's okay. 

BRADY   
Nancy, I'm so -- 

NANCY   
Shut up! Just shut up, Brady! How   
dare you come in here, meddling in   
other people's lives, saying you've   
"got a right." You have no right!   
This is none of your business! 

BRADY   
It is my business, Nancy! Her   
father is -- 

He catches himself. Craig and Nancy look at him curiously. 

NANCY   
What makes you think you know   
who he is? 

BRADY   
I ran...some tests. 

CRAIG   
What, a paternity test? That's not   
gonna tell you anything unless you've   
got a good guess as to who the father   
is. You've gotta have something to   
compare it to. How did -- 

BRADY   
I had something to compare it to. 

A long, incredulous silence. Craig and Nancy sit slowly at the table. 

NANCY   
Brady, what do you know? 

BRADY   
First, you have to tell me what you   
think happened. I...I may not be able   
to tell you everything. 

NANCY   
Why the -- 

Craig stops her with a touch on the arm. He and Brady are staring at each other. An unspoken question and answer pass between them. 

CRAIG   
Nancy, honey, tell him. 

NANCY   
(uncomfortable)   
When I was a freshman in college, I...   
well, I liked to party. I used to go out   
every weekend. Sometimes during the   
week. And I'd drink. I'd drink just about   
anything anyone handed me. I was pretty   
out of control. Sometimes, I'd black out.   
I'd wake up in the morning and not   
know where I was or how I got there.   
Then, there was this one time....I got   
drunk as usual Friday night, and I woke   
up in the dorms. But the hangover, it   
wasn't like it usually was. I almost   
couldn't move my arms and legs, and   
I had this pain, in my stomach, like   
cramps, like someone had kicked me   
or something. I stayed in bed the next   
couple of days. I started to feel better.   
then...it was Tuesday, I think. Tuesday   
night. I was in the library, studying,   
when...I just...I just passed out again. 

BRADY   
You passed out for no reason? Just -- 

NANCY   
No reason, Brady. One minute I was   
reading Karl Marx and the next thing I   
knew...I was in my dorm again. It   
was Wednesday morning, and I had   
no clue what had happened to me.   
I swore off drinking at that very   
moment. But as it turns out, I would've   
had to swear it off anyway, because I   
missed my next period, and sure enough... 

BRADY   
And you never found out what happened   
the second time you passed out? 

NANCY   
No. But I can guess. It had to be one   
of those two times. Somebody found   
me unconscious and took advantage of it. 

Brady stares thoughtfully at the table. 

CRAIG   
What is it you think you know, Brady? 

He looks at the Wesleys, sympathy and duty at war within him. Finally -- 

BRADY   
What I know and what you've just told   
me don't make a lot of sense together.   
All I can say is...I have this friend. He's   
got connections. He ran a genotype   
analysis on Chloë and...whoever did this   
to you, he was...he was related to the DiMeras. 

NANCY   
What? 

CRAIG   
Wait just a damn minute! 

BRADY   
I know. I know it's strange, but the   
data doesn't lie. 

CRAIG   
Since when does Stefano DiMera go   
around kidnapping college girls?   
Doesn't that seem a little beneath him? 

BRADY   
(angrily)   
We don't know it was Stefano! We don't   
know anything.   
(beat; stands)   
But I'm gonna find out.   
(beat)   
You can't breathe a word of this to anyone.   
Not even Chloë. Understand me? 

NANCY   
You haven't even -- 

CRAIG   
We understand. 

Brady nods to them and walks out. Nancy turns to Craig and regards him with shock. 

NANCY   
"We understand"? Just what are we   
supposed to understand, Craig? 

CRAIG   
That there are things about our   
son-in-law that we are better off   
not knowing. 

EXT. SALEM STATE PRISON - DAY 

Establishing shot. A dismal, blockish concrete box surrounded by high-security fencing, guard towers, razor wire, etc. Clearly maximum security. 

INT. HALLWAY - PRISON - CONTINUOUS 

Brady shows his ISA BADGE to a SECURITY GUARD, who nods and directs him down a hallway. 

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - PRISON - CONTINUOUS 

In the dim, cinderblock room with the obligatory one-way mirror on the wall, a BALD MAN (seen from behind) sits in the shadows. He taps the fingers of his left hand on the TABLE in front of him. He rests his right arm on the table -- what there is of his arm anyway. It ends in a stump just below the elbow. 

The door opens, and Brady stands silhouetted in the bright fluorescent light from the hallway. He regards the bald man blankly for a moment. 

The man looks up. He has a familiar face, except for the PATCH over his right eye. He smiles wickedly. It's -- 

ROLF   
Well well. Brady Black. I was   
wondering when you would come   
to me. Frankly, I expected it sooner.   
(beat)   
This is, I assume, about your wife? 

Brady SLAMS the door behind him and CHARGES the table. 

BRADY   
You're gonna tell me everything   
you know, right now. 

Rolf merely raises his eyebrows. Brady SLAMS his fist into the table. 

BRADY (CONT'D)   
NOW! 

Rolf chuckles. 

ROLF   
What do you expect to accomplish   
by threatening me? I am a man   
with nothing to lose. 

BRADY   
Except your life. 

ROLF   
Come, now, my boy. You have   
too much of your father in you to   
commit cold-blooded murder. 

BRADY   
(calmly)   
It's not murder to put down a dog. 

At this, perhaps, there is the faintest spark of fear in Rolf's eyes. His smile recedes. 

ROLF   
What do you want to know? 

BRADY   
How about you tell me everything.   
Starting with why. Why Nancy. 

ROLF   
Because she matched the profile.   
(off his look)   
The profile?   
(beat)   
Ah. You do not know as much as   
I assumed. Interesting. 

Brady POUNDS the table again and GRABS Rolf's collar. 

BRADY   
Answers, Rolf! 

ROLF   
She had both the genetic and social   
profiles we required for our   
experiments! 

BRADY   
What experiments? 

ROLF   
Our cloning experiments. 

Boot to the head. Brady releases Rolf, stunned. 

BRADY   
(weakly)   
What? 

ROLF   
Chloë Lane is not Stefano DiMera's   
daughter. She is his clone. One   
of his clones. 

EXT. CAMDEN MARKET - LONDON - DAY 

Chloë and Elvis wander down Camden High Street past the profusion of street vendors. They wander along happily, comfortably, like old friends taking a stroll. 

ELVIS   
So, where's Mr. Black gone to, then? 

CHLOË   
Oh, he had something he had to do for   
work. It happens a lot. 

ELVIS   
Where's he work at? 

CHLOË   
He, um, he kind of works all over the   
place. He's a...consultant. You know,   
you don't have to call us "Mr. Black"   
and "Miss Lane." You can call us by   
our first names. 

ELVIS   
Nah. Mum wouldn't like that. 

CHLOË   
Well, how about when she's not around   
you try calling me Chloë. 

ELVIS   
(grinning)   
Yeah, all right. 

CHLOË   
So, your mom's pretty strict, huh? 

ELVIS   
She's not bad, actually. She can be a   
bit weird sometimes. Bit embarrassing. 

CHLOË   
Oh, I know all about that! 

ELVIS   
Yeah, well your mum didn't give you   
a bloody awful name, did she? 

CHLOË   
(laughing)   
You don't think so?   
(Brooklyn accent)   
Yo, Chlowie! Hey, Chlowie baby,   
how's it goin'! Chlooooooooowie!   
It's like I was named for a herd   
of cattle! When I was a kid, people   
made fun of my name all the time! 

ELVIS   
You're joking! Who'd make fun   
of you? 

CHLOË   
Augh! Who didn't?! I was the   
definition of unpopular. I was   
the Platonic Form of unpopular,   
of which all other unpopular   
people are mere shadows. 

ELVIS   
I don't believe it. 

Chloë stops in her tracks and looks at him seriously. 

CHLOË   
They called me "ghoul girl."   
(beat)   
What do they call you? 

ELVIS   
(embarrassed)   
Lots of things...."the Howling   
Pouf," mostly. 

CHLOË   
Well, here's a little secret.   
(leans in close; whispers)   
They don't know the first thing   
about you. And they never will.   
There's magic in you, and not   
one of them can touch it. 

She puts her arm around his shoulders and they walk on, past the camera. We notice that they are being followed by a MAN IN A TRENCHCOAT. 

LATER 

Chloë and Elvis are standing on the bridge over the Camden Canal. Elvis is people watching. Chloë is doing people watching of another sort. She has spotted the Trenchcoat, who is watching them while trying to look like he's not watching them. Chloë, with a bit more skill, is also pretending that she's not watching Trenchcoat. She pulls out her cell phone. 

CHLOË   
(dialing; to Elvis)   
You hungry? 

ELVIS   
A bit, yeah. 

CHLOË   
All right. We'll -- hang on.   
(to phone)   
Hello, Aunt Peachy? It's Chloë!...   
Yeah, I'm here in London. Camden   
Market, actually. My friend Elvis Crumb   
and I are looking for a good place to   
eat. Wondering if you have any advice   
for us....No, no, I haven't seen any   
paparazzi today. So what do you think? 

INT. MISS PEACH'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS 

Close on LAVINIA PEACH, speaking to Chloë on the phone. She is a white-haired, apple-cheeked, grandmotherly sort. 

PEACHY   
Well, dear, let me think. Oh! That's   
the door. Could you hold on for a   
minute? 

CHLOË (O.S.)   
(on phone)   
Of course. 

Peachy sets the phone down and speaks to someone O.S. 

PEACHY   
It's Agent Lane, sir. She says she's   
being followed and it's not a reporter.   
She's in Camden now and looking for   
a safe house. Where shall I send her? 

Pull back to reveal that Peachy's room is actually her OFFICE. Standing nearby is DIRECTOR SMYTHE, head of the ISA's London bureau. He's standing near Peachy's desk, looking through a file. He looks up, frowning. 

SMYTHE   
Is she prepared for pursuit? Can   
she bring him in? 

PEACHY   
I'm afraid she's got a civilian with her,   
sir. The Crumb boy. 

SMYTHE   
Oh dear. In that case, send her to the pub.   
We'll have a team there in ten. 

PEACHY   
I'll tell her, sir.   
(picks up phone; to Chloë)   
Sorry, dear! That was the postman! 

CHLOË (O.S.)   
(on phone)   
That's okay, Aunt Peachy. So, any   
ideas? We're getting pretty hungry! 

EXT. CAMDEN MARKET - CONTINUOUS 

Chloë listens to the reply. 

PEACHY (O.S.)   
(on phone)   
Why don't you head down to the World's   
End Pub, dear. They've lovely food, and   
I can meet you there in 10 minutes   
if you'd like. 

CHLOË   
That sounds wonderful. I'll see you there. 

She hangs up, offers Elvis her arm, and they head cheerfully off down the street. Trenchcoat follows. 

INT. THE WORLD'S END - MINUTES LATER 

This enormous, multi-storied pub is filled with an eclectic lunchtime crowd, from grizzled old men to teenaged girls with piercings and green hair. A typical slice of Camden. 

Chloë and Elvis enter and head for the middle of the pub. 

FOOD BAR 

A pretty Indian girl in street clothes and a white apron is behind the counter. She does a take at Chloë, as if she can't quite place her face. Elvis scans the chalkboard menu. Chloë watches the door. 

CHLOË   
Go ahead and order. Anything   
you want, hon. 

ELVIS   
(to counter girl)   
I'll have the hamburger, please. 

GIRL   
And you, ma'am? 

CHLOË   
(distracted)   
Um, the fish and chips, please.   
Thanks. 

Chloë sees Trenchcoat enter the pub. He does not see them. Chloë steps back into the shadows. 

CHLOË (CONT'D)   
Elvis, honey, why don't you go wash   
your hands. I'll get us a table, okay? 

Elvis nods and goes. Chloë pays the girl quickly and moves off into the back room of the pub, casting glances over her shoulder. 

BACK ROOM 

Chloë finds a table and sits with her back to the wall. She checks her watch. She pulls her PURSE beneath the table and reaches into it. 

PURSE 

Her hand closes around her WALTHER PPK. 

BACK ROOM 

Trenchcoat enters and sees her. He knows she sees him. 

BENEATH THE TABLE 

Chloë slips the gun from her purse and rests it on her knee. 

TRENCHCOAT 

starts walking toward her, when -- 

PEACHY STUMBLES in front of Trenchcoat and FALLS to the ground, WAILING. 

PEACHY   
Oh, heavens! Oh! Oh! 

The BARMAN immediately jumps to the rescue. 

BARMAN   
Hey, there! What'd'you think   
you're doing?! 

TRENCHCOAT   
I -- wh -- I didn't -- 

Chloë stashes her gun and stands. 

BARMAN   
(to Peachy)   
Are you all right, madam? 

PEACHY   
Yes, yes, I -- Ohhhhhhh! 

Trenchcoat looks around in a panic. 

BARMAN   
(to Trenchcoat)   
Right, you, get out of here. 

TRENCHCOAT   
But, I -- 

BARMAN   
I said out! And don't come back   
till you can mind your manners! 

Trenchcoat shoots an angry glance toward Chloë. She glares back. 

BARMAN (CONT'D)   
D'you want me to call the police? 

Thwarted, Trenchcoat storms from the room. The barman helps Peachy to her feet. Chloë heads for them. She embraces Peachy. 

PEACHY   
(sotto voce)   
There you go, dear. Taken care of. 

CHLOË   
(sotto voce)   
Thank you, Peachy. That was about   
to get way too Mos Eisley Cantina. 

PEACHY   
(sotto voce; indicates Barman)   
You should thank Reginald here as well.   
(to Barman)   
Run the surveillance photos soon as you   
can, dear. 

BARMAN   
Of course, madam. 

He nods to Chloë with a knowing grin and heads back to the bar. Peachy looks over Chloë's shoulder and grows suddenly upset. 

PEACHY   
Where's the boy? 

CHLOË   
What? Elvis? I sent him to the bathroom   
in case things got ugly. 

PEACHY   
Alone? 

CHLOË   
Of course alone.   
(off her look)   
Peachy, what's -- 

ELVIS (O.S.)   
Hello there. 

The ladies turn. Peachy looks relieved. 

CHLOË   
Elvis, this is my good friend, Miss   
Lavinia Peach. Peachy, this is Elvis   
Crumb. 

PEACHY   
It's lovely to meet you dear. Chloë has   
told me all about you. 

ELVIS 
CHLOË 

(surprised) 
(mouths; to Peachy) 

She has? 
I have? 

Peachy ignores Chloë's curious look as she shakes Elvis' hand. 

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - PRISON 

Brady sits across from Rolf now, staring at the wall, horrified to the point of numb. Rolf relates his tale with more than a little self-satisfaction. 

ROLF   
She was just the type we were   
looking for. A "wild child," as it   
were. Someone from a strict and   
proper family. The combination   
was a near guarantee that the   
baby would be put up for adoption.   
We then made certain that each   
child's adoptive parents were working   
for us. 

BRADY   
The Lanes. 

ROLF   
Very fine agents, the Lanes.   
Very loyal. Unfortunate what   
happened to them. Unfortunate   
for them, for the child, and for   
us. We lost track of the baby   
in the bureaucratic tangle that   
followed their deaths. She was lost   
in the system. Eventually, we   
decided not to waste the resources   
to find her. 

BRADY   
Then how do you know who she is? 

ROLF   
I knew the moment I laid eyes on   
her....No, that isn't quite true. I knew   
the moment I heard her splendid voice.   
She could be no other.   
(beat)   
Seeing what she has become, it is   
a shame we did not find her sooner.   
What an asset she would have been!   
What a jewel in the crown. So lovely.   
So deadly....But, there were more   
pressing concerns at the time, and   
after all, she was a defective model. 

BRADY   
(furious)   
What do you mean, "defective"?! 

ROLF   
Now now, Agent Black. In many ways   
your wife is the most perfect creature   
any man could hope to create. But she   
was female. She was not a perfect copy.   
Stefano did not want another heir. He   
wanted another self.   
(sighs)   
There were many years, and many failed   
attempts. Alexandra, Chloë, Benjamin,   
many others. Each time, I failed to fully   
extract the mother's DNA from the ovum,   
and thus each child was flawed. Imperfect. 

BRADY   
How many times? How many of   
them are out there? 

ROLF   
Dozens.   
(beat)   
Dozens of failures. Only one perfect copy. 

Rolf smiles slyly as realization passes over Brady's face. 

BRADY   
Elvis. 

ROLF   
Indeed. But thanks to your father,   
Stefano was never able to reach him.   
Now that Stefano is.... 

Rolf makes a hopeless gesture with his left hand and shrugs. 

ROLF (CONT'D)   
These trifling details of biology are   
irrelevant. 

Brady narrows his eyes at him. 

BRADY   
There are a lot of people who wouldn't   
feel that it's irrelevant at all. 

ROLF   
I imagine you are one of them. 

BRADY   
DiMera was a monster. And now,   
there's another one. 

ROLF   
Is there? Is biology all that makes   
a man? Or a woman? 

Brady remains silent at this, looking away. Rolf studies him. 

ROLF (CONT'D)   
But you are right in one respect.   
Many parties would be interested   
in the boy if they knew what he was.   
Many parties that are not on your side. 

BRADY   
Is that a threat? 

ROLF   
I am in no position to threaten   
anyone. And my loyalty to the   
DiMeras is long gone, along with   
the eye and hand they took from me.   
I am not the one you should fear. 

BRADY   
Who should I fear then? 

Rolf sighs and shrugs again. 

ROLF   
I could not say. 

Brady gives him a long, hard, searching stare. Rolf remains indifferent. Finally, Brady stands and opens the door. He turns to a GUARD standing outside. 

BRADY   
Take him back to his cell. I'm   
done with him. 

Brady walks out. 

Rolf smiles. 

INT. ROLF'S CELL - MINUTES LATER 

This is a cinderblock cell with an iron door. No flimsy bars. No windows, except the small wire-reinforced slit of glass high in the door. 

Rolf is ushered in by his guard, and the door is slammed behind him. 

He sits on his bunk, sighing, staring thoughtfully into space. He leans his chin on his remaining hand. 

Then, he taps his eyepatch with one finger, three times. 

ROLF   
You heard?   
(beat)   
We must act quickly. 


End file.
